Non Omnis Moriar: Not All of Me Will Die
by Liquid-Thalassa
Summary: UPDATED: parts 2 and 3. Character- Death. What happens after she dies... Read and review ;). Thanx for all the nice reviews, everyone!
1. Ante Mortem

Title: Non Omnis Moriar [Latin: "Not all of me will die"- Horace]

Author: Liquid Thalassa

E-Mail: Liquidthalassa@yahoo.com

Rating: PG

Genre: Angst/Supernatural

Disclaimer: The characters of Third Watch belong to John Wells and Warner Brothers.

A/N: Ok, so this is my first Third Watch character death fic ever- whoo-hoo! Just kidding. It's told in a different point of view...I'm sure you guys will figure it out! Hopefully it's interesting and not a bore; this is the most I've written at one time in a long time! I plan of having 3 parts at least…as always let me know your thoughts…especially with this one! Thanks. :0)

**

_Prologue:_

_ Hindsight_

I thought I was invincible. 

I thought I was God. 

Nothing could stop me, nothing could bring me down. 

I thought wrong. 

Dead wrong. 

Two shots was all it took. 

Two shots fired in the span of a second marked me for Death.

Who would've thought, certainly not I. 

Perhaps that was my downfall. 

I thought I was strong. Powerful. Quick. 

I thought I could handle myself. I thought I could handle my own. 

I thought…I thought…I thought…

Nothing can change what happened. 

This was my Fate.

Nothing can be done. 

Not now.

I'm gone. 

Dead. 

**

_Part One:_

_Ante Mortem [Latin: Before Death]_

I remember that day, like I remember nothing else. The memory burns, imprinted on my mind like an unwanted tattoo. Even now, even after I can't shake it…

There wasn't anything different about that day, not really. It started out like any other. 

I remember lying in my bed, intertwined in the soft navy blue flannel sheets, my eyes still closed against the faint light streaming in from my broken Venetian blinds. My alarm let out another shrill cry from the nightstand to my left. Stupid fricken thing, I thought rolling over and slamming the snooze. I opened my eyes, still blurry and out of focus and read the digital readout. 9:30 am. Sighing I told myself only a few more minutes. And I let my mind drifted back to the place of dreams, well half dreams that is. Shifty, foggy images flooded my mind, some of them too distant for me to understand, some of them clearer. But all was lost with the cry to the alarm. I reached out and flicked the off button. I forced myself to sit up, feeling a rush of blood escape my head leaving my dizzy. I blinked, looking around my cluttered room. I was never one for immaculate neatness. When I came home I usually just took my clothes off and left them where they were, either rushing to shower or bed. I peeled off the comforting sheets and got up. Work was five and a half hours away. There was plenty of time to shower and relax…

I looked at my clock, still in the process of fixing my hair and makeup. I wasn't one for vanity but I believed it looking your best. It was 12:30 pm. I remember looking in the mirror and smiling. I remember actually being happy to go to work, which if anything was odd. Don't get me wrong, I loved my job. I lived for it. It was my life…and my downfall. But I was never one to be the favorite. People talked; about my attitude, about my latest antics. They called me a bitch, reckless, careless, hotheaded, cold…and I was. I had to be. I had to keep that front up. It was my defense, defense against getting hurt, a defense against the perils of the job. I did what I had to do, I did what I felt- and thought- was right. And that, that distanced myself from everyone else. Was I a good Cop? A good Sergeant? I like to think so. I got things done. I caught the bad guys. I paid my dues. But most of the time, especially after Lettie died I wasn't too eager to go to work, but today I was…today I was. Ironic huh? 

So after my hair and makeup were in order I went to my closet, looking for an outfit. I was off patrol and back up in Anti-Crime. I was back in the game, back where I belonged and worked so hard to rise to. I chose a simple pair of blue jeans and a black t-shirt. After all it wasn't the clothes that mattered. My fingers brushed past my uniform. I called it a costume once. I was half serious. Some part of me hated that uniform, the strictness, the weight it carried…and another part of me, well I respected it. But, now, after gaining so much freedom it felt like a punishment, an insult to wear in again. To be back on the war filled street doing a dangerous and thankless job…it wasn't my idea of fun. Wearing the bag was a double edged sword. Either those jackasses hate us, called us names and gave us shit or they groveled at out feet, pleading for action and help…Sometimes, now I wonder if everything would've been different if I was in uniform, it everything would turn out the same…I dressed quickly knowing I had to leave, making sure my vest was on correctly. Grabbing my gun I holstered it in my holster and grabbed my set of handcuffs. I got my badge from the kitchen counter. The gold glinted off the midday light, causing it to twinkle. I put it around my next and zipped up my navy blue NYPD sweat jacket and looked around. Doing one last check I made sure everything was in order and left, plucking my car keys out of my purse.

If I had known that would be the last time I saw my place, my home; I just might have taken the time to enjoy it. It was my refuge, my safe place…and at times my prison. I just might have taken the time to look at the worn pictures of Lettie and I- younger, happy, smiling. I might have looked out the window and taken in the sight of the bustling city. I might have done a lot of things. But I had no idea…Closing the door with a thud I walked down the hall, not even looking back. 

The drive was, like always a hassle. Cars everywhere, horns honking, crazy people on the street corners and in cars. I signed and drummed my fingers on the steering wheel to a repetitive tune. After narrowly missing a fender bender I arrived at the House with 20 minutes to spare. 

I remember seeing Boscorelli in the distance walking into the station, still in his plain clothes, duffle back over his shoulder. I missed him…and what we shared. He was the only one I trusted, that I thought understood me. The real me, that is. Great minds thought alike and Bosco and I were quite alike. I thought he would understand me and my plans. I thought he would get it…but he didn't trust me, he brought her in to the picture. Her: Faith. She still pisses me off. If it wasn't for her…well perhaps everything would be different. No, everything would be different, no perhaps about it. I channeled my anger and hate onto her, I blamed her. Truth is I should have blamed myself. 

I got out of my car and walked into the 5-5. The first thing I saw was Lieu at the main desk. He looked up at me.

"Sergeant." He said by greeting. 

I nodded my head and acknowledgement. "Hey Lieu." 

"You're here early." 

I smiled slightly. "Yeah, I guess so." 

I started to walk past him. "Maritza." He said. "Keep up the good work." 

I just looked back at him; he winked and turned back to his papers. 

If I said no one liked me I was wrong. Lieu seemed to be a fan. It was like no matter what I did he was able to forgive me. He, if anyone thought I was a good cop. I never told him, thank you for that. For his care and support, distant but still there.

I made my way into the locker room. I don't know why, I was already dressed. The halls were filled with officers from the previous shift and support personnel. Ringing phones, the sound of computer keys being typed and the occasional yelling of a criminal in the holding cells reminded me I was home. The locker room was quiet save for the slight rustling of another person. Bosco. I remember the slight feeling apprehension as I neared his locker. He was getting dressed, putting on his vest, making sure the Velcro strips were in place. He didn't look up at first. I had no idea what I was doing really. What I was trying to accomplish. 

"Hey." I said, placing a smile on my face. 

He looked up, meeting my eyes. I always loved his eyes. So blue, so clear and truthful. His expression was calm, giving nothing away. I remember wondering what he thought of me, what he truly thought that is. Did he hate me? I reassured myself that he didn't, Bosco was a good man, hate didn't seem like something he would do. 

"Hey." He replied in an even tone. "What are you doing here?" 

I wanted to tell him everything, but I couldn't. It wasn't the time or place. And I wasn't sure he wanted to hear it…

"Uh, I just came to fix my hair." I said lamely and walked over to the dirty water speckle stained mirror. I busied myself with moving a strand here and a strand there, all the while looking at him. No doubt sensing my eyes he looked at me in the mirror. 

"You look fine." He said watching my reflection, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

I turned around and looked at him. "Thank you." I said and began to walk away. 

He nodded and began putting on his belt. Sully and Davis came through the door followed by Monroe, laughing about something. I gave him one last look and walked out. There was so much I wanted- no need to say, to tell him…so much. 

I knew I didn't belong there, in the locker room, on some level I knew they didn't want me there. I sighed and made my way up the stairs- there were thirty, I counted long ago- to Anti-Crime. 

My desk was clean, devoid of anything personal. No pictures, no personal touches. That was how I liked it. A few files and reports lay scattered on the top from the shift before. I gathered them and placed them in a pile. I sat down and took in my empire, my kingdom. I worked hard to get here. Sacrificed a lot. Too much, I realize now. Too much. The sound of Officer Carter interrupted my thoughts. 

"Sergeant?" He said hesitantly. 

I looked up. "Yes?" I said back to my usual self. 

"Day shift got a tip on a drug house, they were going to do a bust but the warrant didn't come in time. They were pissed but wanted us to do it. Rielly said better Anti-Crime then some piss-ant patrol officers." 

I nodded my head in understanding and got out of my seat. This was what I lived for. This and nothing else. 

"We have the warrant now right?" I asked. 

"Yeah, signed and ready to go." 

"Good…that's good." I paused. "We got all the specs right? I don't want any shit happening. Nothings worse then going in there blind." I said looking him in the eyes.

"We got everything. It's only a matter of when." He replied. 

I remained silent thinking. "Lieu's been notified?" 

"Yup, up to date." 

"Ok, this is what I want you to do. Gather some extra man power, notify Haz-Mat to be on standby, let ESU know about the bust…We'll go at 4:00. Got it?" 

He nodded and walked out. 

I left the confines of ACU and began to get everything in order…

I felt no apprehension, no worry only the excitement of doing my job, the thrill that every cop seeks, the thrill that clouded my mind and lead to my end.

Four o'clock came quicker than I realized. I was sitting in my unmarked cruiser, ignition off starting at the house in the foreground. I noted nothing out of the ordinary outside. It was just like every crappy, wore down house that littered the block. Next to me in silence sat Officer Carter. I didn't know him that well and I remember wishing it was Boscorelli who was there. But no, he was riding with Monroe…I looked over at Carter. He was young, calm, a good cop. Unlike me he had no demerits in his file, no bad appendages attached to his name except working with me. But I did that. Taint people. Hurt them. It was my folly. I looked at the house once more. No one was supposed to be there. It was suppose to be easy. In, out and on with our jobs. If I would have known I might have waited a little longer, paid a little more attention before going in there guns blazing, mind foggy with adrenaline. But that was me. I thought I was invincible, remember? 

I gave Carter a look, he nodded. It was time. Getting out of the car I discretely pulled out my radio, telling Central that we were executing the bust and to keep priority of our frequency. Central crackled back with a 10-4 and followed by two other officers, Carter and I neared the house. 

My heart pounded as I knocked on the door. "This is the Police. We have a warrant." I said against it. It was the law to announce ourselves. There was no reply. Guns drawn I looked at the other officers, telling them I was going in and to cover me. They nodded and got into position. I tried the door, it opened effortlessly. You'd be surprised how many people left their doors unlocked; I didn't think anything of it. 

I entered the home, clinging to the walls, gun aimed and ready, eyes scanning. 

"This is the Police. We have a warrant. If there is anyone here you better come out with your hands up." I yelled, inching along the wall, Carter close behind. 

"We have gained access. Tell the other's to proceed." I said into the radio. 

I looked around, taking in the clutter and disarray. I looked at Carter and told him I was going to look upstairs. 

"You want me to come?" He asked. 

I shook my head. "No. I can handle it." I told him. "Wait for the others to inventory and process the scene." 

And without a thought I began my ascent up the dirt stained carpet stairs, careful not to make a sound. I knew what I was doing- or at least I thought I did. This was something I've done so many times it was almost second nature…I kept to the walls, scanning, checking, listening. I saw nothing. I heard nothing. There was only one room, the door was ajar, a bedroom I figured and I headed there. I kicked the door with my foot and stood to the side, looking into the door jam to see. Nothing. A rumpled bed, beer bottles, trash and debris. 

"Police." I said quietly yet firmly. 

No answer. I figured the place was empty, just like it was suppose to be. Downstairs I could hear talking and movement of other officers. I entered the room, looking for anything telling, anything that could help the case and bust. 

I turned my back to the room, thinking I heard my name being called. That was one of my many mistakes.

I heard a crackling of something behind me, I turned instantly, eyes wide. 

There was a man, hairy, dirty, haggard, most likely high on something pointing a gun at me. 

"Put the gun down now!" I said. "I'm a police officer!" 

I pulled out my radio with my free hand, never taking my eyes or gun off him.

"Carter, someone get your asses up here! We got someone." She belted out.

Seconds later I heard footsteps behind me. 

"Sergeant?" It was Carter. 

"He's got a gun." I told him and I could hear him upholster his own. 

"Put the gun down now, Sir. There are half a dozen cops downstairs. There's no way out." I told to the man. "Just give up before someone gets hurt."

"No…No…I can't go back. I'm not going back." He said in a mumble, waving his gun as he talked. 

"Sir!" I said curtly. "Put the fucking gun down now or I'll have to shoot." 

He paused and looked at me, his eyes distant and wild. I should have known I should have seen it coming…

I didn't have time to react. I didn't have time to fire. It happened so quickly. In a blink of an eye. I felt the bullet rip through the flesh of my thigh, the pain white hot and lancing. I staggered backwards. Eyes and mind confused and blurry. Fear fogging my instincts. I heard Carter yelling, desperation and fear in his voice. I heard another gunshot and felt a thud of force pierce the area of my left shoulder. Everything stilled. I gasped in utter pain and slid against the door, giving Carter a clear view of the man. He fired not pausing until all his bullets were out. My heart hurt, my lungs ached. I couldn't see clearly. 

Carter kneeled down to me, tapping my cheeks. It felt odd, distant. His voice was an echo. 

I remember hearing frantic yells and curt orders of backup. 

Ten-Thirteen…Ten-Thirteen…officer down…officer down…shots fired…shots fired…

I tried to stand up but couldn't. I couldn't move…I couldn't even try. The pain…god, the pain was go great…I vaguely felt tears roll down my face, I couldn't stop them. 

An officer, I didn't recognize him, kneeled beside me and looked in my eyes. 

"You're going to be alright." He said. "The Medics are on the way…just hold on…" 

I thought I nodded. 

"Is there anything- anyone you want us to call?" 

Eternity seemed to pass before I could find my voice. "Boscorelli…Bosco…." 

He nodded and left my field of vision. 

I think I knew then. I know I was going to die. I felt my heart ever so slowly, laboriously try to pump. In my palms I felt the sticky warm wetness of blood. My blood. It was everywhere. I could feel it leak down my chest…

Someone took a towel and pressed it against my leg and another against my chest. I watched them thankful but unable to be of much help.

Someone was talking to me…I didn't know what they were saying; I couldn't understand their garbled words. I remember thinking, so this was it. This was how I was going to die. The thought saddened me but deep down I was at peace. If I were to die there was no better way then on duty, doing what I loved and devoted so much of myself doing. 

It felt like forever till the medics came…Kim and Carlos…I don't remember what they did or said, I was half gone by then, the darkness swirling in my mind, threatening to take hold. 

They lifted me up onto a stretcher, working quickly and frantically. Shoving IVs in and checking my stats. 

"Her BP is low…pulse thready…cardiac arrest if you don't hurry…hit the femoral artery…lots of blood…" Someone, I think it was Kim said.

Carter helped them carry me down the stairs. I saw the other officers, double the amount then before clustered watching, waiting, desperate to help a fallen sister. 

I thought he wasn't going to come. I thought he wouldn't care but rushing up to me I saw his face. His blue eyes. 

"Bosco…" I mumbled. 

"Shhh…" He said keeping at my side with the quick pace Kim and Carlos set. 

I groped for his hand, and felt his warm grasp. 

"I'm so sorry…" I began to say in a whisper. He had to lean closer to hear me. 

"Don't." He said firmly. "Don't talk like that, Ritza." 

"Bosco…" I said coughing. "I love you…I'm so sorry…I never meant….love you…" 

He froze, his eyes turning liquidly. "I-I forgive you, Ritza…" He said quietly.

"We gotta go!" Someone yelled. "She's not going to make it." 

I felt Bosco's hand slip from mine, saw his eyes…they were the last things I remember. The last thing…I don't know what happened…I just felt…at peace. A sense of warmth washed over me and like a long day on the streets I longed to close my eyes…I longed to sleep…

End of _"Part One: Ante Mortem" _stay tuned for _"Part 2: Post Mortem"…_

**

A/N: So what d you all think? Good, bad? I hope it wasn't too boring or anything! Cause that would totally suck! I've never done a Character-Death fic and I wanted to, it was either Bosco or Cruz…and there are far too many Bosco deaths so I decided on Cruz. I wanted to do something different, tell it differently. Oh, I made Carter up, in case you were confused or something. Yeah, just let me know what you think…I'm already writing Part 2 so look out for that! Oh, any errors- forgive me, I read though it two times and tried to find them all but I might've missed some! :0) -Lynne


	2. Post Mortem

Title: Non Omnis Moriar [Latin: Not all of me will die- Horace]

Author: Liquid Thalassa

E-Mail: Liquidthalassa@yahoo.com

A/N: Thanks for all the great reviews :). This is sort of an intermediate chapter…to link to the third and to tell what happened after her death. I'm sure it's pretty good, my mom thought so at least ;) But mom's are biased so who knows ;). 

_Part Two:_

_Post Mortem [Latin: After Death]_

*

At four-seventeen pm, March 12th, on the second floor of a rundown drug house, I, Maritza Cruz died; fatally shot in the line of duty. After everything I've been through, after all I did it all came down to two shots. Two shots from a gun wielded by a half crazed druggie…two fricken shots. It's still hard for me to believe. I thought I was unstoppable, invincible…my badge and gun my shield…but it wasn't enough. Nothing would ever be enough would it?

I always wondered what it was like to die, how could I not? I confronted death and danger eight hours a day, sometimes more. It was in the back of every cops mind…before a call, at a traffic stop, walking the beat…all the time. Those who wore a uniform and badge and carried a gun were marked, targeted for death, like a magnet it seemed to follow us like an eerie shadow. It came with the job, the territory. I accepted it like everyone else…but to think; to think it would happen to me was another story entirely. I never thought I was going to die that day…had I known the moment I opened my eyes I was inching closer and closer to my end, everything, every action and decision I would have made would have been different. I might have cheated death, escaped from her bittersweet embrace and lived another day…

The last memory of my mortal life was of his eyes. Maurice L. Boscorelli. I remember thinking that I was in heaven, that those endlessly blue orbs were the gateway to the thereafter. In some ways I was right. His presence and forgiveness made it easy, made it right. I told him I loved him…I told him I was sorry…but there was so much I wanted to say, to tell, to feel. There was too much he- and everyone else- didn't know or understand. And that- that is my only regret. I couldn't stop my death, but I could have opened up more, I could have acted more human…I could have done things- a lot of things differently. 

I haven't lost him; I don't think I ever will. My heart is tied to him, I'm not sure if that thread can be broken even though death has severed its mortal ties. I watch over him…in this place, wherever it may be. Neither Heaven nor Hell but somewhere in between…at first I thought Purgatory but no, it seemed different…it is had to explain in worlds…I am dead though I live on, not all of me has died and I sense not all of me will. I can see the world, I can witness it but I not feel it, not like those who are living do. There were times I would find myself in Bosco's dark bedroom, his breathing deep signaling sleep, his face calm and peaceful…I wanted so badly to experience his touch, to feel his eyes staring into mine…I reached out to him once, to a hand laying lazily on the side of the bed. I felt nothing, but he pulled away and opened his bright eyes in the darkness, searching for the invisible. What I hated more than anything was that I was the invisible. I figured I was a ghost, it seemed logical. I never gave ghosts much thought when I was alive; I had other matters on my mind…my job, my pathetic social life…I was never one to get philosophical or religious…

I made it a habit to watch over him while he was on the streets. He was riding with Faith, she was able to keep him in line like I never could but there were times he didn't listen, there were times he himself came close to death. I stopped him once, or at least I like to think I did. It was three months after my death he and Faith got a call of shots fired at a domestic, they went code three, when they got there without thinking Bosco left the RMP and ran into the building ignoring Faith and her pleas to wait for backup. Don't get me wrong, I still have lingering…issues with Faith, it seems petty I know given my circumstances but I was thankful for her care over Bosco. I seemed to fail that test while I was on earth, causing him more stress and pain then I ever wanted or meant to. He ran up the dirty sticky stairs gun cocked and ready, I could hear his heart beating, I could taste his adrenaline and I felt a sense of unease wash over me. He banged on the door yelling that he was the police, Faith came running behind yelling into the radio for additional units. After I died they seemed a little more careful with those kinds of things. I stood there watching, waiting…and then at the end of the hall came the faint sound of footfalls. It was a man with a gun pointed at Bosco and Faith's back. Shear fear ripped though me and I screamed out his name. Did he truly hear me? I don't know but in that instant they whipped around a got out of sight….And for a slit second he had a look in his eye like that at my funeral…like he sensed I was there.

My funeral…I almost forgot about it, though I don't know how I could. I had a living will, most police officers did, but I never specified what I wanted to happen with my body, where I wanted it that is. I never gave that any thought. I didn't think I need to, I didn't think it was necessary. After the autopsy and the normal things that happened after one dies my body was released. Only instead of me going into the care of grieving family members I was handed over to the police station. In life, after Lettie died I thought I had no family, but now, now I know I had one all along. My family were those who serve and protect, those who wore the badge and uniform…I remember being surprised- and touched- at the sorrowful looks in everyone's eye the day after my death. I never thought they cared…I never thought it would hit them that hard. At roll call Lieu was near tears as he told everyone that Sergeant Maritza Cruz died in the line of duty. Everyone was silent, everyone looked sad, even Faith…she looked at a distressed Bosco with sympathetic eyes...They wore a black ribbon across their badges, in honor of my death and in sorrow of my loss…

My funeral was scheduled for the next day. I was going to be buried, most likely in the cemetery that held hundreds of fallen officers and heroes. But it was Bosco…Bosco who went to the captain and talked him into letting me be buried next to Lettie, next to my sister. I wish I could thank him for that, only he would know my wishes…being that I died in the line of duty I was given a full funeral. I knew what they were like; I'd been to enough after 9-11…it was weird, I can say that- to witness my own funeral, my own body being lowered into the cold wet earth. I stood in the background like an uninvited guest, watching everything. There were so many officers there, I didn't know three fourths of them, but the fact that they were there meant a lot. They stood tall and silent as my coffin draped with a flag was carried through the cemetery, the eerie melody of taps filling the air. Bosco and Lieu were the front pallbearers, Davis, Monroe, Carter, Sully and yes, even Faith were also there supporting my coffin. Bosco cried, liquid tears falling endlessly down his grief stricken face. My heart ached, ached that even in death I seemed to cause him pain…They got to my spot, my hole in the earth, right next to Lettie. There my coffin was set down like a fragile piece of glass. They gathered in a crowd to hear the kind words of Lieu. He told them of my strength, my courage and dedication as a cop, of my last day how he was glad he was able to tell me I was going a good job…Lieu went on with his solemnly: "I know some, if not all of you have came in contact with Maritza", he said, "some had a better experience than others", he paused and tried to smile. "But one thing I'm sure everyone knows was Maritza gave her life to her job, she gave it her all, and she like so many did it thanklessly. For that we will always remember. We will never forget you, Maritza. Never." Wiping a tear from his eyes he left the podium and walked down to my coffin, he took a red rose and placed it on the lid…after him came others, a long line of mourners placing rose after rose until they overflowed and fell to the dew kissed ground. Bosco was one of the last…I'll never forget the sadness in his eyes, the darkness…I got closer, until if I could touch him he would feel my light caress. Slowly he walked his hands holding the rose so tight a thorn pricked him, he paused as he neared my coffin and stared, seemingly speechless. "I'm so sorry, Ritza." He whispered. "I never knew…you should've told me…Oh, God…Maritza…" He kissed his palm and pressed it on my coffin, I imagined he was kissing me…he placed the rose gently on the top and hesitantly walked away. "I miss you." He whispered. I stayed where I was, a few feet to his left. "I miss you too." I said and to my surprise, at that very moment his eyes made contact with mine, time seemed to still, the veil of life and death seemed lifted, it was if he saw me- or sensed me…and then as quickly as it happened it stopped…I'll never forget that…It was a beautiful ceremony, I have to say. Beautiful in a bittersweet sense. I had been born to live to die. I understood that now. It took my undoing for me to see, to know, but I understood- or I _thought_ I did…

_End of "Part Two: Post Mortem" stay tuned for "Part Three: Resurgam"_

*

A/N: Ok, so what do you think? Next chapter is going to have a twist- well hopefully it's a twist-that's where the "supernatural" comes in. Oh, and some things, like the funeral and stuff I have no idea about, I've _never ever_ been to a funeral much less a police one so just overlook any "mistakes" I tried to keep in realistic…but I was just guessing (sorry)! Again, thank you all for the nice reviews ;). Feel free to review this chapter too! Thanx. 


	3. Resurgam

Title: Non Omnis Moriar [Latin: Not all of me will die- Horace]

Author: Liquid Thalassa

E-Mail: Liquidthalassa@yahoo.com

A/N: Here is part three; this is where the "supernatural" angle comes in…I think…Hopefully it's not too cheesy! 

_Part Three:_

_Resurgam [Latin: I Shall Rise Again]_

*

Like I said, I thought I understood everything, I thought I had this place, my existence post death all figured out. I couldn't have been more wrong. It seemed to be the theme of my life- and death actually- thinking one thing then realizing I was far from the truth. Real far. Time went by; if I had not been counting I wouldn't have known how long. But I kept in contact with the real world, watching over Bosco and the others; enjoying life without being alive…It had been five years to the day since my death. Five whole years. At times they seemed slow- so slow, and others like it past in the blink of an eye, so quickly it was hard to comprehend anything. In all my time here as I am now I had no contact with anyone like me, no company or guide…no one. Just as well I thought it was like that in life so it is in death. But I longed to have company-real company- not the kind where I was a fly on the wall, non existent. I missed the simplest things, a glace there, a touch there…the job, my life…So much so that I prayed to live again….

I found myself at the place where it happened. The second floor of the now cleaned up drug house. I avoided that place for so long. It looked different, repainted and redone; it felt different, not as…evil as before. I was staring at the spot long before I realized its significance. I could almost see the blood, the puddle of death and lost life on the carpet. It was cleaned up now, the carpet replaced but I could still _see_ it. I felt sick, uneasy…panicked. I avoided this place for a reason; I couldn't understand why I was here again. Calming myself I decided to look around. The shit-hole bedroom was nice and tidy, I got the sense a nice average family lived here. For a moment I saw the man standing there pointing the gun at me only to disappear. It was odd. He wasn't dead, he was stilling in jail for the first degree murder or a NYPD police officer, rotting away. It was a wonder they didn't kill him, the officers I mean, you know have a little mishap on the way to the station…I looked a clock on a small nightstand. 4:00 pm. Bending down to the ground, I touched the spot. I died here, I thought, I died in this very place…Fragments of what happened came back to me. Like a spliced movie, shaky and out of order. I couldn't take it, the assault on my mind. I began to cry…I wanted so badly to live again, to take back my mistakes…

I must've been like that for a while, when I opened my eyes and looked at the clock it read 4:10. I heard two loud cracks and I felt a pain in my thigh and my left shoulder, so strong it felt like that day. This is the time I was shot. Seven minutes from now and I'll be dead…My breath caught in my throat and I fought the phantoms. This isn't real, I told myself, this isn't real. Only it was, or it had been. I sat on the floor, my back against the door; just like that day…just like that day…I cried and pleaded. To whom I do not know. Seconds past, I could count the ticking of the clock in the silence…the stillness of life and the stillness of death. I waited. 

It was then that the impossible happened. I heard a voice calling my name. I looked around finding no one. Nothing. Not even the present occupants. _Maritza_, it called again. Smoothly, clearly. What the Hell, I thought. I sat there, stuck reliving my death and this…thing. _Maritza_, it called again. It was then after the third time that I realized the voice was from my head. I had to laugh, I thought I was crazy. The clock ticked on. 4:15…_Maritza, you are going to have to make a choice…the time draws near…you must hurry…_I had no idea what was happening, like I said in all my time here I never met someone like me, someone dead. But I had a feeling this is something else, something or someone…important…powerful…different… 

I looked at the clock again. 4:15:30…What are you talking about, I asked. _You have a choice…to live again or stay dead forever…it is yours and only yours to make. Choose wisely for there is no going back…the time draws near…_I released a breath I didn't know I was holding. Time was ticking. _To live again_. I wanted nothing more than that. To have a second chance, to right my wrongs and…Bosco, I could be with him; I could tell him everything…I weighted my options and tried to find a con. I couldn't think of any. I glanced at the clock again. 4:16:30. Thirty seconds…

_So what is your choice, Maritza? _I closed my eyes and paused. I didn't know how it would happen, how it was possible, and at that time I didn't care. To live again, I said just as the second hand swept over the 12. _So it is done, _came the reply. 

And with that the scene before me vanished and I found myself in a hospital room. The harsh sound of the flat-line and the curt orders of doctors and nurses filled the air. I could smell the disgusting smell of iodine and medical supplies…I could see a few feet away part of what looked like a young woman. Where're loosing her, a doctor yelled anxiously. The flat-line kept on. I didn't understand. What's going on I asked not thinking I'd get an answer. _You will see in due time, _the voice replied again. _You must know some things…the memories you hold now, they will not leave you but stay hidden deep within, they are safe there…you will not remember them, not in the normal sense. You are to go into the world without those holding you back…this is your second chance- your one and only chance to right your wrongs…to live again…_I nodded, my eyes turned to the young woman on the stretcher, I walked closer getting right next to the doctor…

She was pretty despite the creeping fingers of Death that starting to sink in. She was Hispanic, I could tell even though her golden skin looked a few shades paler, her eyes where closed but I knew they would be a warm brown. Her hair was chestnut, almost black and though matted with sweat I could tell it was lustrous, falling in half hazard waves as far as the middle of her back. Her height was average; about as tall as I was now, she was thin, in shape. She reminded me of myself actually, it was almost eerie. Why am I here, I asked. _You will see in time, it is drawing closer, Maritza…you will not remember this, you will not be yourself, they will not recognize you…there may be lingering connections…in the cases of love and hate…faint memories of your life that will break though at times…listen to them, they will guide you…you know what you must do, Maritza…_

There were frantic movements, the doctor shocking the girl with paddles, yelling 'clear'. The flat-line kept on. She had been down for three and a half minutes already…There was blood all over her leg and chest and everywhere in between…staining her skin and clothes. To say that I understood everything I was told would be a lie. I was clueless. And her, I asked, still looking at the girl. _Her time is done with, she has made her choice, she does not want to return again…she has no family, she has no future…she has chosen…but you, you have as well…it will not be painful, Maritza…your beginning maybe difficult but you are strong, you will overcome…you have to…_

"Do you want to call it?" A male doctor asked.

The doctor who was doing all the action didn't reply. He looked down at the woman and shook his head. "Let try another shot of Epee." A nurse ran to a cupboard and grabbed an Epee Pen. The doctor took it and pierced her flesh…

_Get ready Maritza…for in a blink of an eye you will be Maritza no more…_

The EKG monitor stayed in the monotonous beep…The doctors and nurses waited anxiously hoping the effects of the drug revived her from the dead. And then it happened. Though I couldn't tell you exactly what _it_ was. I was no longer watching the woman, no longer the outsider. I didn't feel the freeness I grew accustom to, it wasn't until seconds later that I felt the most excruciating pain and weakness I've felt since my death. This was _real_ pain. My left shoulder...my thigh…and slowly ever so slowly I faded into the foggy darkness…ever so slow I ceased to be…only I knew that wasn't true…not all of me will die, not all of me will die…

**

Breaking the silence the EKG machine began its bleeps, no longer a single shrill cry, but a seemingly erratic tone. The line rising and falling over the black screen. There was a collective sigh of everyone in the room. 

 "We got her back, good job everyone…" Said one of the doctors. Then he leaned closer to the woman's face. "Ms. de la Vida…can you open your eyes? Ms. de la Vida?"

Slowly ever so slowly earthy brown eyes struggled and fluttered open. The doctor smiled. "Anastasia...hang in there, you're going to make it." 

A twinkle glinted in her eyes before the darkness overcame...only this time it was not the darkness of death, but the darkness of the unknown…

_End "Part Three: Resurgam" stay tuned for "Part four: Revenant"_

*

*

A/N: Ok, interesting, huh? I hope my direction of writing is liked! You all know what happened right? I don't want to explain _everything, _but if you need clarification just let me know and I'll address it in the next parts (yes, they'll be another part) author's notes…But incase you didn't catch it, the name. _Anastasia de la Vida-_ "Anastasia" means "of the resurrection/one who will be resurrected" in Greek and as far as I know (correct me if I'm wrong!) "de la Vida" means " of life" in Spanish…so her name means roughly "resurrection of life" ;0). Get it? Lol. I planed on having this the first part of a "series"- good? Bad?- like this was like the pre-quel of something…Anyways, I'm going to post Part Four really soon and that may clarifly some things. Let me know what you think- like, not like…continue with series, not? You know… thanks :)


End file.
